“Good morning, Tabitha,” I said quietly, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a direct look.

She flashed that fake, sugary smile she always used when she planned to humiliate someone with a whisper.

“Everett’s will is being read tomorrow morning, and Calvin and I think it would be best if we talked like adults before things get uncomfortable.”

I wiped my dirt-stained hands on my gardening apron and stood up to my full height.

I was several inches taller than her, even with those ridiculous designer heels.

“There’s absolutely nothing for us to talk about. This is my father’s house.”

“It’s actually your father’s estate,” she corrected me, savoring every syllable of the word.

“Calvin was like a son to him for a very long time, so the least we can expect is to receive what’s rightfully ours.”

I felt the heavy weight of the metal shears in my grip, and a sudden surge of cold anger.

“Are you talking about the same Calvin who cheated on his wife with his own secretary?” I asked in a low, steady voice.